Chapter 2 - The House That Already Had a Buyer
I wanted to walk away.
Instead, I sat staring at the woman who claimed she had given birth to me.
“You abandoned me.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No immediate defense.
Just one word.
“Yes.”
I had spent childhood inventing versions of her.
Sometimes my biological mother was poor.
Sometimes sick.
Sometimes dead.
When I was angry, I imagined she simply hadn’t wanted me.
My adoptive parents, Evelyn and Michael, had given me a wonderful childhood. They never hid the adoption, but information about Teresa had been scarce.
“Why now?”
“Because Thomas forced now.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“I’ve known where you were for months.”
A chill ran through me.
“You were following me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“Probably.”
“You watched Chloe?”
“From a distance.”
I stood.
“Don’t say my daughter’s name.”
Teresa nodded immediately.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
I grabbed my bag.
Then Teresa said, “Thomas has another appointment tonight.”
I stopped.
“What appointment?”
“With Courtney.”
I turned around.
“Where?”
Teresa slid an address across the table.
A restaurant downtown.
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer surprised me.
“Verify everything.”
I slowly sat again.
“How did you learn about the sale?”
Teresa looked toward the window.
“I was trying to learn about you.”
“That sounds disturbingly close to stalking.”
“It was.”
Again, no defense.
She explained that after finding me, she had initially intended only to see whether I was happy.
Then she noticed Thomas meeting Courtney.
Once.
Then twice.
Teresa began following him instead.
“You expect me to believe you became a private investigator?”
“No. I became a frightened mother with too much time.”
“Mother?”
The word came out sharper than I intended.
Teresa lowered her eyes.
“I know I haven’t earned that word.”
For the first time, my anger lost some momentum.
Not because I forgave her.
Because she didn’t demand forgiveness.
My phone vibrated.
Thomas.
Enjoying the ride?
I stared at it.
Teresa whispered, “Answer normally.”
I typed:
Trying to sleep. Talk later.
His reply came quickly.
Love you.
There it was again.
Love.
I wondered how many lies could fit inside two words.
That evening, I stood across the street from the restaurant Teresa had named.
At 6:43, Thomas arrived.
At 6:51, Courtney Mills appeared.
Young.
Blonde.
Elegant.
Thomas kissed her.
Not on the cheek.
I looked away.
Teresa stood several feet behind me.
She didn’t touch me.
For that, I was grateful.
Through the restaurant window, Thomas and Courtney sat together.
He opened a folder.
She smiled.
He pushed papers toward her.
My anger sharpened into something useful.
“What are those?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we find out.”
Teresa looked surprised.
“What?”
“For the last three hours, everyone has known more about my marriage than I do.”
I turned toward her.
“That ends tonight.”
We didn’t confront them.
I photographed the meeting from outside.
Then I called Rachel.
“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be here?”
“I missed the bus.”
“What happened?”
“I need a favor.”
I told her enough to make her stop asking questions.
“If Thomas contacts you, I’m in Cincinnati.”
Rachel went silent.
“Is he hurting you?”
“Not physically.”
“Do you need police?”
“Not yet.”
“Then whatever you need.”
Afterward, I called my sister-in-law and arranged to pick up Chloe without telling Thomas.
That was the hardest part.
I couldn’t explain why.
Not yet.
At eight, Chloe came running toward me.
“Mommy!”
I hugged her too tightly.
“Can’t breathe.”
I loosened my arms.
“Sorry.”
“Why aren’t you with Aunt Rachel?”
“Change of plans.”
“Dad coming?”
My throat tightened.
“No, baby.”
We spent the night at a hotel registered under Teresa’s name.
I made her take another room.
At 11:17 p.m., Thomas called.
I stared at his name until the ringing stopped.
Then came a message.
Sleep well. Miss you already.
I almost threw the phone.
Instead, I took screenshots.
The next morning, I met an attorney.
By noon, the situation had become even clearer.
Revoking the power of attorney had been crucial, but that alone did not erase whatever Thomas had already attempted.
The attorney advised immediate written notice to relevant parties and preservation of every document.
The real estate agency was contacted.
The transaction stopped.
The buyer’s deposit became part of a dispute that suddenly had nothing to do with me willingly selling anything.
At 12:38, Thomas discovered the problem.
He called seven times.
I answered the eighth.
“Samantha?”
His voice was different.
“Hi, Thomas.”
“Where are you?”
“Cincinnati.”
Silence.
“No, you’re not.”
There it was.
The mask falling.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because someone revoked the power of attorney.”
I closed my eyes.
He hadn’t even pretended ignorance.
“You mean the power of attorney you were using to sell my home?”
Silence.
Then:
“Sam, listen.”
“No.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“There’s a buyer.”
“I can explain.”
“Courtney too?”
Another silence.
Longer.
“You’ve been following me?”
The absurdity almost made me laugh.
“You’re worried about being followed?”
“Samantha, come home.”
“No.”
“We need to discuss this privately.”
“No, Thomas. We needed to discuss it before you put my home on the market.”
“It’s our home.”
“It’s legally mine.”
“We’re married.”
“And apparently you forgot that while kissing Courtney.”
His breathing changed.
“Samantha.”
For the first time in twelve years, hearing my name in his voice frightened me.
Not because he shouted.
Because he became calm.
“Who told you?”
I looked through the attorney’s office window.
Teresa stood outside.
“Why does that matter?”
“It matters very much.”
“Goodbye, Thomas.”
“Sam, wait—”
I ended the call.
My hands trembled.
The attorney looked at me.
“Do not meet him alone.”
I nodded.
That afternoon, Teresa finally began telling me about my birth.
She had been seventeen.
Her family had been poor.
My biological father disappeared when he learned she was pregnant.
Teresa’s parents believed adoption would give me opportunities she couldn’t provide.
“I signed papers I barely understood,” she said.
“You could have found me sooner.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Cowardice.”
The word surprised me.
“I told myself you deserved peace. The truth was that I was terrified you’d look at me exactly the way you’re looking at me now.”
I didn’t know how I was looking at her.
Maybe neither of us wanted to know.
Then she pulled another envelope from her bag.
“What now?”
“Something I found while watching Thomas.”
Inside were photographs of Thomas entering a private office building.
Dates were written on the back.
One date caught my attention.
It was three months earlier.
The same week Thomas had suddenly become obsessed with reorganizing our financial records.
“What is this place?”
“A financial consulting firm.”
“So?”
“The company is connected to one of Thomas’s creditors.”
I looked up.
Teresa continued.
“And Samantha, I don’t think selling the apartment was the end of his plan.”
“What else could he take?”
She hesitated.
“Your aunt didn’t leave you only two apartments.”
My heartbeat slowed.
“What are you talking about?”
Teresa slid a photocopy toward me.
It was part of my aunt’s estate record.
There was a reference to an account I had never seen.
I stared at the number.
Then at Teresa.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does Thomas?”
Teresa’s expression answered before her voice did.
“I think that’s exactly what he’s trying to find out.”
May you like
And suddenly the sale of my home looked less like the crime.
It looked like the test run.
